


summer skin

by astralitte



Category: Persona 5
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Angst, M/M, contains p5r spoilers, headcanon: akira is usually quiet until he takes off his glasses, hello emotionally unavailable boys, please do not do the do after eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:47:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24193057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astralitte/pseuds/astralitte
Summary: Akechi sits up quietly to not wake the messy-haired man and pulls his knees to his chest.Beg me to stay, damn it,he thinks bitterly, as if he hasn’t played a part in changing the topic of every conversation in which Akira hinted at wanting him to do the very same thing.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 16
Kudos: 179





	summer skin

**Author's Note:**

> Boy, I sure wasn't expecting an akeshu spin on an idea that I did for another fandom eight dang years ago to be what breaks my four-year writer's block. I blame all the damn p5r feels. And the credits of the bad ending, how Akechi and Akira's happiest moment is playing chest with each other. I just cannot. Please, Atlus, save us all and give us an Akechi route.
> 
> disgusting crying noises
> 
> Also, here's a playlist that I made for akeshu feels: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0fu9hNALLMDvoHVQQfID5D?si=EskL-wHkRRmDW5sxhf8fIA
> 
> The song 'Summer Skin' is by Death Cab For Cutie.

**squeaky swings and tall grass**

Four and a half years after the end of the end, Akira freezes when he finds Akechi pacing—no, lurking—outside Leblanc. _You’re alive,_ Akira thinks to himself, wanting to be hopeful, but after reality had been fixed, Akechi seemed to have gone back to being dead despite the Phantom Thieves trying to find him. They didn’t, of course, because who could survive something like that, and Akira never once stopped asking himself what if he could have done something _,_ what if he had accepted the deal _, what if—_

 _Kurusu,_ Akechi breathes, and Akira’s attention snaps to the man, jaw clenched, heart beating so fucking off-kilter. Then, before Akira can stop himself, he has pounced on Akechi and has punched him across his face. _You fucker,_ he cries, overwhelmed with relief, and all Akechi does is smile at him brokenly and let Akira’s forehead fall onto his chest.

As Akechi wraps his arms tightly around Akira, _I’m sorry_ spills past both of their lips, but Akira isn’t sure that he has the heart to forgive Akechi for being gone for so long yet and Akechi isn’t sure that he can ever forgive himself for everything that they had gone through.

**the longest shadows ever cast**

“How are you here?” Akira not so much asks but mumbles, after he’s dragged Akechi into the store, cleaned him up, and made him a cup of coffee, all the while upset at himself for letting his emotions get the best of him but also at Akechi for not even being mad at him for the hit. “Everyone thought that you were dead.”

When Akechi beams around his mug, Akira forces himself to take a deep breath and reminds himself that hitting someone who had been missing for four years, six months, and fifteen days is really not the proper way to greet them after so long.

“Do you punch everyone you miss?” Akechi has the cheek to question instead, but Akira is quick to reply with, “The only person I’ve ever missed in my whole life is you, asshole.”

“And I thought I was the unhinged one,” Akechi chuckles, eyes disgustingly fond, and Akira is trying to fight back his tears, because Akechi actually here and it finally feels like he can breathe again.

Then, Akira is reaching over the counter, pulling Akechi forward by his lapels, and their lips are pressed together so urgently and sloppily that Akira smiles into the kiss because that’s how he’s always felt about Akechi ever since the first time they had gone to play billiards together and Akechi, out of all the juvenile things that Akira could have fallen for, had told him that it would be exciting to have a rival.

**the water’s warm and children swim**

If there is anything that Akechi is thankful for a few days later, it is that Akira has the café all to himself. He did his research: after Futaba had entered university and moved away, Sojiro decided to retire and hand the shop over to Akira. Akira had dropped everything then, which wasn’t much to begin with since Morgana had gone to live with Haru, and took the bullet train back to Tokyo the very next day.

 _Are you here to stay,_ Akira asks, avoiding Akechi’s gaze by fiddling with his fringe. It’s an old habit, Akechi remembers, so he sinks his teeth softly into Akira’s shoulder to avoid smiling to himself, but Akira has to catch it and also demand, _why are you smiling?_

Akechi had been prepared for the questions though—no one ever disappears for almost five years only to come back as if nothing ever happened—so he answers, _perhaps until I find somewhere new to live._

Because the frown on Akira’s face tells Akechi more than he wants to know, he glances up at Akira with hooded eyes, smiles ever so sinfully, and starts mapping kisses down Akira’s chest. A distraction, his heart knows, but he loves how Akira is sighing just so.

**and we frolicked about in our summer skin**

**I don't recall a single care**

“You should answer your phone before someone thinks that you’ve been murdered,” Akechi scolds, but when he sees that it’s Ryuji, he’s already reaching for Akira’s phone and turning it off before it has the chance to ring a fourth time.

Akira laughs breezily, having put up a last-minute notice to close the shop for the rest of the summer; he’s aware that it’s horrible for profits, but the shop had already been paid off and he still had millions left over from the Metaverse all those years ago. Besides, nothing was more important than—

“Well, if you’re going to ignore me as well,” Akechi grumbles before pushing himself off the couch as if to leave, an act clearly neither one of them buys.

Rolling his eyes, Akira grabs Akechi by the wrist, pulls him back onto his lap, and whispers, “You've always been a brat.”

**just greenery and humid air**

Each time they have to leave the shop to get groceries, Akechi insists on going for a cycle, which is always a horrible, horrible idea to Akira given the suffocating humidity and the ever-hot breeze. Still, he tags along, though he will never admit that seeing the wind in Akechi’s hair makes him feel something nauseatingly bittersweet in his heart.

 _I'll race you to the store,_ Akechi calls, despite being ahead, ever the cheater, so Akira bites back his laughter and paddles even harder because he sure as hell doesn’t want Akechi to think that he’d go easy on him.

Akechi wins, naturally, because Akira has never been one for cycling, not that Akechi cares, because it’s still one new thing that he is better at than Akira and the journey has never mattered as much to him as the outcome. After all, here they are despite everything that has happened and none of it was a dream.

Once they have locked their rented bicycles at the station, a comfortable silence falls between them during their walk to the store, both lost in their own thoughts.

 _I still have your glove,_ Akira almost blurts out at that moment, but he stops himself when Akechi slips his hand into Akira's and tugs him into the shop, pretending to be oblivious to the older ladies’ covered gossiping mouths and accusing eyes, with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

**then Labour day came and went**

“I received a call earlier,” Akechi suddenly says, tossing the video game controller onto the couch after he loses the match, “when you were cooking.”

Noticing Akira looking at him with the corner of his eyes, lips rapidly thinning, Akechi continues, “It seems like I've received a job offer in Taiwan.” At that, he sees Akira’s lips parting in shock, hating how much of an open book the infuriating man can be just through his facial expressions.

“Oh,” Akira starts, then pauses for a moment to stare blankly at his lap before adding, “are you taking the offer?”

“I guess so. I mean, it’s not like there’s anything for me here,” Akechi tests, but he can see the words threatening to spill out of Akira's mouth, and he isn’t sure that he’s ready to hear them, so he pretends to accidentally knock over his cup of tea with a jerk of his arm.

It’s yet another act that Akira obviously sees, but it doesn’t matter because Akechi is relieved that he doesn’t say anything further.

**and we shed what was left of our summer skin**

**on the night you left I came over**

Just after midnight strikes, Akechi wakes up to the sound of rain crashing against the window. He considers going to sleep, but then again, it’s his last day, so maybe he should rouse Akira just to be selfish, to have a tiny bit more of Akira to himself, but Akira had already given almost two months’ worth of attention to only him, _and—_

He sits up quietly to not wake the messy-haired man and pulls his knees to his chest. _Beg me to stay, damn it,_ Akechi thinks bitterly, as if he hasn’t played a part in changing the topic of every conversation in which Akira hinted at wanting him to do the very same thing.

 _I want to stay_ , Akechi whispers as he shifts the dark locks from Akira’s face, but the only response he receives is Akira, in deep sleep, moving closer to him, so he thinks, _it’s not like I deserve to anyway._

**and we peeled the freckles from our shoulders**

When Akira stirs from his sleep to find Akechi sitting at the edge of the bed and staring out the window, he sits up and stifles a yawn. He squints at Akechi’s face to get a clearer view, but something in the man’s posture shifts, and then Akechi is looking at Akira with a gentle smile.

“Say, Akira, are you familiar with the argument about the roots of human nature?” Akechi asks out of the blue, to which Akira shakes his head, so he continues with, “Do you think people are born innately good or evil?”

Rubbing his eyes to wake himself up more, Akira thinks about the question, then answers, “I’d say innately good.”

The smile on Akechi’s face becomes something more sincere, and Akechi says, “Of course you would. But, you know, I think people are innately evil. Why else would there be so much corruption in this world?”

He starts rattling on about how it is so much easier for most humans have negative thoughts than positive ones, about how people are prone to leave others to their misfortunes rather than do something to help them, about how only the minority is seen doing good for the world and not even in everyday life.

“I suppose being born bad but choosing to do good is an easier pill to swallow than being born good but choosing to do bad,” Akira cuts him off, despite thinking that five in the morning is an awful time for philosophy, but his reply still manages to both shock and irritate the hell out of Akechi.

“It’s so like you to put a positive spin on something so bleak,” Akechi drawls. “You never cease to amaze me.”

“Do you see yourself as innately evil?” inquires Akira, reaching over for his glasses, but Akechi pokes Akira’s side, shakes his head, and says, “Leave them. You’ve always been more talkative when you’re without them… and you’re more fun in bed that way.”

Akechi’s avoiding another question, Akira notes offhandedly, because the answer is clearly a yes, but the bastard is way too good at disrupting his train of thoughts.

**our brand new coats so flushed and pink**

The next morning, Akechi wakes up to the smell of coffee and pancakes. Before he even has the chance to get out of bed, there is a thumping of stairs before Akira is standing before him, holding a bed tray.

 _Breakfast,_ Akira says simply, then he is nudging Akechi further into the bed, setting the tray on top of him, and plopping down next to him. Akechi knows the only reason he is getting this special breakfast is because today is the day he leaves. He considers denying the meal out of spite and lying that he isn’t hungry, but the look on Akira's face is so vulnerable that Akechi starts eating it while pointedly ignoring Akira's stare and telling himself that he only wants to because it is his favourite food.

The pancakes are done perfectly, of fucking course—fluffy and browned precisely the way he likes it—and every painstaking stab into the pancakes feels like another puncture in his own heart. _These are great,_ he says after he remembers his manners, and Akira grins like a maniac.

Once he has finished, Akira carefully picks up the table and sets it on the floor. When Akira turns back, Akechi snatches Akira's glasses and pulls him in to lock lips with the intention of them spending more time in each other's skin. They still have time to not talk; after all, he has already packed most of his things and his flight wasn’t until this evening.

 _Always so easy,_ Akechi thinks cruelly when Akira relents and combs his long fingers into Akechi's hair and pulls in a way that makes Akechi arch his back and grind his hips.

 _You’re insatiable,_ Akira groans, but his hand is quick to splay Akechi’s legs, his two fingers even faster to dip into Akechi's still wet hole, and he whispers, dark and calculating, _that eager to board the plane with my come running down your thighs?_

Akechi shivers and squirms as Akira fucks his fingers into him harder and rubs at his prostate. Impatient, he pulls Akira on top of him, but Akira only keeps working his fingers ruthlessly until Akechi’s a shuddering mess before he finally pulls his fingers out, grips Akechi's waist with one hand, and guides his cock into Akechi's needy, gaping hole.

 _Akira,_ Akechi moans, and then he realises his slip of tongue, and his heart is falling too fast, but Akira just grasps his waist tighter, slams into him faster, so Akechi tries to cover his face with an arm that Akira immediately shoves away and Akechi feels like he is drowning under that dark, inescapable gaze.

**and I knew your heart I couldn't win**

“Fucking right after eating really isn’t a good idea,” Akechi grumbles, stomach mildly uncomfortable.

It earns a snort from Akira, who buries his face into the crook of Akechi's neck before kissing it tenderly. “Tell yourself that,” he chuckles, then skates his palm down Akechi's back, the touch tentative, almost questioning.

He doesn’t want Akechi to leave, but how could he force the man to stay when he seemed so eager to go? To Akira, after all these years of trying to accept that Akechi was gone and that he would never see him again, these two months of reprieve have already been more than he could have ever asked for.

A feral part of him wishes to chain the damned man to his bed so that he would never be out of sight again, but it just wasn’t the same as having him stay willingly. He could try to ask aga—

“I guess I should get ready to go,” Akechi says, and soon, they are pulled into a lengthy conversation about what Akechi would be doing in Taiwan.

It’s always funny how they can talk so much about everything and still not get across what they want to say directly, but Akira guesses that that’s what happens when even a glove is more emotionally available than the two of them combined. This time, at least he knows that Akechi is actually alive, so he'll be able to trudge on.

After all, Akechi will always his heartache that never stops.

**cause the seasons change was a conduit**

Later, they have an early dinner together downstairs, Akira having cooked curry, in order to return some sense of normalcy between them. Akechi's knuckles are white from how tightly he is holding his spoon, and under scrutiny, there is a slight tremble in Akira's shoulders. Despite noticing each other's tics, they force themselves to talk about mundane things such as when the next book of their favourite author comes out and the hours apart between Tokyo and Taiwan.

When the time comes, Akechi calls for a taxi while he double checks that he has his passport and the documents that he requires. He does it slowly, just to see if Akira will say anything, but all the aloof idiot does is watch him quietly. When the taxi arrives outside ten minutes later, Akechi says, _well, I guess I should go now._

 _Wait,_ bursts from Akira's mouth when he remembers something, then he sprints up the stairs. Akechi looks out the glass door and bows apologetically to the driver, but she casually shrugs at him with a half-smile, probably pleased about the hefty fare she's about to earn.

When Akira tramples back downstairs, breath catching, Akechi catches a flash of red and belatedly realises that Akira is throwing something at him. After it slaps him on the chest, Akechi catches it and looks down to find a red glove in his hand.

 _A duel,_ Akira tells him, not caring that it makes no sense now that they have no Personas, _for when you come back._

Akechi’s heart surges painfully and he feels his eyes water. For a brief moment, he is caught between asking Akira if he's lost his mind and begging Akira to let him stay, but all he manages is _it’s a promise,_ like a stubborn idiot, and files the sag of relief in Akira's shoulders in the back of his mind.

Holding the glove to his heart, Akechi offers a faint smile, turns, and walks out the door. He doesn’t look back, doesn't even spare a single glance when he loads his luggage and enters the taxi. He is sure that they'll see each other again soon enough.

But if he had looked, well, he might have caught Akira pressing a black glove to his own chest with tears streaming behind his glasses.

**and we’d left our love in our summer skin**


End file.
